


Redemption Of A Monster

by Macs_Baby_Girl



Category: Red Canyon (2008)
Genre: F/M, NSFW, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 07:04:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2498966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macs_Baby_Girl/pseuds/Macs_Baby_Girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He showed no sign of change, until she forced him to."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Redemption Of A Monster

Title: Redemption of a Monster  
Category: Movies » Red Canyon, 2008  
Author: Missus MacManus  
Language: English, Rating: Rated: M  
Genre: Romance/Horror  
Published: 10-07-14, Updated: 10-08-14  
Chapters: 2, Words: 2,373  
Chapter 1: Chapter 1  
REDEMPTION OF A MONSTER: Ch 1

AU ending: Devon, Regina and Walter are dead. Mac and his sort-of-girlfriend Bailee live in peace... Sort of. Mac's redemption is nowhere in sight, until something changes him.

"Bailee! Getcha fuckin' ass in here and make me some fuckin food!" Mac yells the second he gets in from the truck.

The girl he's screaming at hastily enters the kitchen, wearing denim shorts, a tank top, and her frizzy bleach blonde hair in two braids.

"Y'all hollered?" She says mildly, entirely unshaken by his menacing glare and foul temper. He looks every bit the killer: coveralls, a knife stashed in his belt, a gas mask dangling from one hand.

Bailee says nothing more, just fishes a skillet out from under a pile of pizza boxes, shoves trash off the stove, and produces a pack of beer from a cupboard.

Once she's gotten some food and beer into him and he's taken a fresh hit from his little silver tin, his temper quells.

"What ain't ya sleepin'?" He demands.

She wants to be sarcastic and say 'because some fucker kept me awake!' But she's not stupid enough.

"I was waitin' for you..." She says, big dark eyes on him, taking in his rough, scary appearance.

"Th' fuck for?" He says through a mouthful of beer.

"I don't sleep well when you ain't here... Always think the cops are gonna come breakin' the door down..." Bailee leaves out the part where she can't physically sleep when he isn't beside her, passed out drunk or actually sleeping.

"Ain't no cops gonna break down the fuckin' door. Don't be fuckin stupid." He goes to spit on the ground but stops himself at the last minute.

Bailee's lazy but she makes an effort to keep the place clean enough. It makes her smile when he stops himself from spitting on the ground, shows he's making an effort.

"You comin' to bed?" She asks, standing, dumping the dishes in the sink.

"'N a minute, baby girl," he mumbles, tossing the gas mask onto the counter. She runs her hand through his shaggy hair on her way out of the kitchen, ignoring his growled threats.

It's maybe twenty minutes before he comes into the bedroom, stumbling a little.

"Y'all need a hand?" Bailee is peeking out over the blanket at him as he cusses, arm caught in his coveralls.

"Nah."

Moments later the bed springs - or what's left of them anyway - creak as he throws himself down onto it.

"Ya need to fuckin sleep more," Mac tells her, "ain't no use in ya if ya got no fuckin energy."

Bailee considers this for a moment- it's still hard to tell whether he's actually concerned or whether he just cares about getting laid. Probably both, considering it's not difficult for him to find girls to fuck. After all, despite looking - and being - terrifying, he's damn handsome, charming... Alluring.

Hell, it's his charm that got her here in the first place.

He throws an arm around her, pulls her against his chest.

"Oi. Baby girl, what's goin' on in ya head?" He roughly kisses up her neck, "anyone hurt ya? I'll fuckin kill 'em..."

Bailee giggles - she loves when he threatens to destroy someone for her. To be fair, she HAS been silent.

"C'mon, baby," he growls into her ear, "tell daddy what's wrong."

He hasn't played along with THAT fantasy for a while, and when he does, it's usually during sex. But how can she tell him that it's his activities in the canyons that plays on her mind? Not the cooking, or the killing, but the fact that he fucks other girls down there?

But his hands are wandering now and she can never resist him when he's like this, as close to gentle as he can get.

"I don't like... That you fuck other girls..." She says it as fast as possible, as though it will lessen the inevitable wrath it will invoke.

"Difference between them girls - those fuckin' whores - is they die. And you don't," he sounds almost reasonable for a moment, then she realises he's lulling her into calm.

"You think you fuckin own me, bitch? I'm not yer goddamn property, ya hear?" His hands dig into her skin, rough and angry.

"I know!" She hurries to say, "I just don't like it! I'm your baby girl... Why'd you need all them whores?"

His grip on her waist tightens and he pulls her roughly onto her back and stares down at her a murderous glint in his eyes.

"Because, baby girl," he says in a dangerously low voice, "if I didn't have those fuckin whores and cunts tied up and rotting in those canyons... You'd be a fuckin' wreck."

Bailee has often suspected Mac's need to kill and taste for violence stems from control, from a twisted coping mechanism. She never really expected him to confirm that theory though.

"I'm sorry I brought it up..." She mumbles.

"Ya fuckin will be."

The look in his eyes is no longer murderous, however. It has become lustful and dark, and it makes her entire body ache with need.

"You gonna punish me, big boy?" She bites her lip, goading him into a state of lust.

"Yer gonna fuckin wish you'd just stayed quiet, sucked my cock, and gone to sleep," he informs her.

"Baby I never 'just' suck your cock." Bailee points out, and she's right. Every time, he ends up fucking her senseless. He loses control, he can't help it.

"True, but ya fuckin suck it real fuckin good," he bites down on her neck, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough that the scar twinges.

"Only for you," she purrs, "my big scary dangerous man."

His rough hands palm her heavy breasts, fingers skimming across her nipples, playing with the piercings there.

"I still dunno whether I like these or fuckin hate 'em," Mac comments, more to himself than to Bailee, hands still wandering.

"I got them because I thought you'd like them..." She confesses, "and 'cause I thought... I dunno... If I look better and sexier than those other girls... I won't end up like them."

Two thick fingers roughly slam into her, making her cry out in pain.

"Ya won't end up like 'em," he growls, "cause yer my girl, and I ain't gonna find a sweeter pussy for fuckin miles."

Well, it's not exactly romantic, but hell, she takes what she can get. She reaches in between them, eternally grateful that they both sleep naked. His heavy cock is hard to her touch, and she's practically purring when he allows her to stroke him. It's rare that he allows her to touch him - he likes control, only likes her touching him if her mouth is wrapped around his cock.

He angles his fingers inside her just right; her back arches off the bed.

"Mac!" She whimpers, her free hand tangled in his shaggy brown hair. He moves, his tongue replacing his fingers, tasting her dripping slit.

"My little slut," he murmurs, "so wet for me..."

"Y-yes!" She pants, both hands buried in his hair; she doesn't dare guide his head, not that she needs to, but she can't help but tug on it.

"I'm gonna eat yer sweet pussy," he growls, "then I'm gonna fuck you so fuckin' hard ya won't be walking fer days..."

Bailee moans, her whimpers and cries becoming louder as he works his tongue along her slit, tracing circles around her swollen clit.

"Mac, please! Please! I need you in me right now! Please!" She practically screams.

"Tell me what ya need, baby girl... Ya know I like details..." He kisses and bites his way back up her body, lips coming to rest on her bite mark scar, hands teasing her again.

"Mac, please! I need you to fuck me! I'm your dirty whore... Please... I need you inside me right fucking now!"

For once he obliges her, spreads her legs and thrusts into her roughly, in one fluid movement.

"Oh my god!" Bailee moans as the head of his cock slams into her cervix.

"Don't ya know, baby? I'm the devil," he groans into her ear, his thrusts rough, deep and erratic.

"Oh my god, Mac! That's it... Ohhh, right there! Mmm... Like that..." Bailee can feel her inner walls tightening around him- when he's like this, neither of them last long. Sometimes they can go for hours. Tonight won't be one of those times.

"Don't ya fuckin' dare cum yet," his tone is threatening.

"Please, Mac! I need to cum... Please!" She's reduced to begging, as she always is. His hands are everywhere, touching, holding, scratching even. Her eyes are wide, fixed on his piercing blue orbs. His chest is damp with sweat as he thrusts harder, deeper. He bites down on her throat, opening the old wound.

Bailee whimpers in pain, but the noises turn to mewls of pleasure as his tongue slowly laps up the blood. She can feel him tense inside her: he's close.

"Mac..." She breathes, her hands in his hair - she drags his face to hers, crushes her lips to his.

"I love you so fucking much," she whimpers as her climax hits.

"Yer makin' me love ya..." He growls, his way of saying 'I love you too', as he empties himself inside her.

After, he almost tenderly bandages the gaping wound on her throat. He doesn't apologize, and she doesn't expect him to. But she knows, from the way he's actually bothered to take care of her, that he cares.

When they've both downed a couple of swigs of whiskey, he throws an arm around her, pulls her against his chest, and they fall into a drunken, sexually satisfied slumber.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The scorching Utah sun burned Bailee's face as she worked. She was scrubbing down the outside of the house, trying to get it to look a little more presentable.

So far, she'd come across a rattlesnake (which she'd shot), a swarm of rather nasty looking ants, and a whole heap of trash.

"Fuck it!"

The snake had been the last straw. If Mac hadn't been off in that creepy ass cave, he would have dealt with it. But he HAD been away, so Bailee had had to improvise. And hey. A double barrel shotgun is as good a snake repellant as anything.

Stomping inside, Bailee slammed the door. It was hot, she felt like crap, but at least the house actually looked - and felt - liveable. It had taken her the better part of six months to make it that way. At first, Mac had thought the idea of cleaning the place up to be stupid - after all. Most nights he'd slept out in that cave.

But once the house had been tidied a little, the generator left on, and he'd learnt that if he came home, there would be a hot meal on the stove for him (and a warm body in his bed), he'd made an effort to come home and his visits out to the cave had become less frequent.

Since Walter's "disappearance", he'd become more confident, too. No longer living in his half-brothers shadow, in fear of their father, he'd almost given up on the whole "cooking meth" thing.

Bailee knew he still did it - after all, it made money - but she thought it was more to do with the fact that aside from cooking meth and killing people, Mac didn't really think he was much good at anything else. That was Mac all over, though. He was so used to being bullied and threatened by his father, he'd never really learnt what he was good at.

She wished she could convince him to go to college, even take some online classes. But when she'd mentioned it once, he'd flatly refused.

Settling into the familiar pattern of worrying about the man she, admittedly stupidly, loved, Bailee rummaged in the fridge for the ingredients to make fried chicken.

However.

Once the skillet was actually hot, and the chicken was in the process of frying, nausea overtook her. Cussing loudly, she turned the stove off and sprinted for the bathroom.

"Fuck!"

Half an hour later after much puking and a cold shower, with two painkillers in her system (and the skillet dumped unceremoniously into the fridge), Bailee buried herself under the blankets of the bed, and stayed there for the rest of the day.

In the early evening, Mac arrived home.

"Bailee?"

"In here!"

He entered the bedroom, wearing his jeans and hunting jacket, knife in his belt as usual.

"Ya look fuckin' awful." He commented.

"'M sick," Bailee mumbled.

"Ya look sick."

To her surprise, he sat on the edge of the bed and felt her forehead.

"Ya feel all clammy."

"I was frying some chicken for dinner and I came over all sick..." Bailee explained, then frowned, "shit, I didn't finish cooking it!"

"I can cook, ya know." Mac informed her. Which was true, he was just usually too lazy or blazed to do so.

"Get some sleep." He added, "I'll wake ya when dinner's done."

True to his word, he did wake her. Bailee expected the smell of fried chicken to hit her nose. Instead, she found Mac sitting beside her, a couple of pizza boxes in front of him.

"I finished cooking the chicken," he said, then added almost sheepishly, "but I didn't think ya should be eatin' it... If that's what made ya feel all sick. So, I got pizza."

These rare moments, where Bailee caught glimpses of the man Mac would have been, had he been raised right, loved by his parents, they made her love him even more. He wasn't by nature a 'sweet' man. So when tiny glimpses of such a man made their way through his menacing armor... She loved them.

"Thanks."

He'd even gotten her favorite - cheese, pineapple, and mushroom, though he usually always complained about her never eating it all.

Tonight however, she ate every bite.

"Damn, fer a sick girl you sure eat.."

"Yeah..." Bailee said distractedly; she was too busy counting in her head.


End file.
